The Pale Altar

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2026-08-20 04:39:44 -

The Pale Altar

The dream began with the sound of tearing silk, a long, wet rip that echoed through the sterile white halls of the Ministry of Public Order. Elias Thorne stood before the High Commissioner, his uniform immaculate, his hands trembling slightly at his sides. He was dreaming of the coat. Not the one he wore, stiff with starch and regulation, but the other one. The brown wool coat that had belonged...

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